


Spend Five Minutes With Me

by PhoenixFoxfire



Series: The Turning of the Hourglass [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 day challenge, Drabbles, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, Wordcount: 100, really just a variety of things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFoxfire/pseuds/PhoenixFoxfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnlock drabbles based of a 30 day prompt challenge. All drabbles are 100 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Beginning

Under John’s surveillance, Sherlock Holmes had started to become a good man, rather than just a great one. He didn’t always care, but sometimes he did, even if it was in a roundabout way (like telling Molly about Jim from IT). One night he even said sorry. He prevented Henry from firing that gun into his mouth. But then Sherlock refused to go with John to check up on the landlady that was supposedly injured, the one he’d nearly killed a man once before for injuring. When John saw she wasn’t, he knew it was the beginning of the end.

Accusation

It started out with a whispered sneer on Anderson’s part after the idiot noticed a slight brushing of hands on John’s and Sherlock’s part. “You sick bastard, you coerce him into…that? You know he can’t leave because he’s got nowhere to go and so you get off with him?” The accusation was misplaced and not based off any real evidence, but the man was looking for any chance to insult the detective. Sherlock flushed in anger, showing an uncharacteristic amount of emotion, ready to disprove Anderson’s wild theory, when John walked up saying, “Actually, I made the first move, prat.”

Restless

Sherlock always became very restless in between cases. He needed to give his mind something to work on, some puzzle to solve. Luckily, John was a patient enough man to put up with all of the detective’s crazy antics. Yes, he got annoyed, and sometimes he shouted a bit, but he never really stopped said crazy antics from happening. But some days, when John thought he couldn’t handle any more violent gunshots or body parts in places where they don’t belong or experiments sloshed on the table, he calmed Sherlock by sitting them on the couch and just kissing him.

Snowflake

If you were to ask Sherlock what his favourite time of year was, he would probably dismiss you and tell you that such things were trifling and unimportant. However, if he was honest he would say that it was when the first snowflakes began to fall in London. It wasn’t because he liked the snow; he didn’t, it made running after criminals much too difficult in his fancy Italian shoes. No, Sherlock liked the snow because it brought on the coldest time of the year. And when it was cold, a certain John Watson had a wonderful penchant for snuggling.

Haze

The man they are chasing takes a sharp turn suddenly, and Sherlock loses his footing, smacking his head on the cobblestones. He blacks out for a moment, waking up to his head cradled in John’s lap. The doctor had rushed over as soon as he saw Sherlock fall. He now gently strokes Sherlock’s cheek with one hand while the other hand carefully dabs at the blood oozing from the wound. He whispers soft words of reassurance and encouragement. John’s hands and words are warm, and through the haze that clouds his mind, Sherlock thinks that John must be an angel.


	2. Chapter 2

Flame

John was attracted to Sherlock like a moth is attracted to a flame. The attraction was total and undeniable. Physically, the detective was gorgeous. Those dark brown curls and high cheekbones and ivory skin and oh god those eyes were stunning. His intellectual prowess was formidable, and his brilliance was beyond compare. Although John was his first (and would be only) lover, Sherlock was a very good student when it came to the bedroom. Emotionally, John could never find anyone who could love him more deeply, completely.

And like a moth, John’s loyalty and attention towards his flame was unwavering.

Formal

The first time they danced was at a black tie affair. Sherlock thought John looked dashing in a tuxedo, devastatingly handsome. Music permeated through the air, and John held his hand out to Sherlock, silently asking for a dance. He fully expected Sherlock to refuse, but to his surprise, Sherlock took his hand. Sherlock curled an arm around John’s waist, palm resting on his lower back, pulling them flush together. John gave him a brilliant smile, and they danced for most of the night.

Now, some evenings, one of them turns on music, and they slowly sway together, comfortably entwined.

Companion

Sherlock Holmes had been alone his entire life.

Then Sherlock Holmes met John Watson.

John Watson thought Sherlock Holmes was brilliant. He put up with the consulting detective’s eccentricities, his violin playing at odd hours of the night, his silence for days on end. He became a soundboard for ideas. He took care of Sherlock, making him eat and sleep before his body shut down, and healing any wounds the detective sustained. Slowly Sherlock began to realize he wasn’t alone anymore. For in John Watson, Sherlock found not only a companion, but also a friend, a partner, and a lover.

Move

When John saw the murderer pull out a gun, he wasn’t overly frightened. When John saw the murderer level the gun at Sherlock, he felt his heart hammering an urgent tattoo in his chest. He ran with frantic movements, shouting out “Move!” as he tackled Sherlock to the ground. They fell, Sherlock letting out a pained moan as his shoulder hit the cobblestones. John felt the bullet bite the air above them, and he sighed in relief. Sherlock muttered a soft “damn” as the murderer fled, but he turned to John and kissed him softly, murmuring a quiet “Thank you.”

Silver

Sherlock didn’t have many things that were symbolic to him, but of the things he did consider symbolic, two of them were silver.

The first item was John’s dog tags. Sherlock wore them on a chain around his neck, a symbol of John, his brave soldier, the “man who invaded Afghanistan”, the man who risked his life to save others while getting shot at. They were a symbol of the man who had become Sherlock’s everything, who loved their adventures, and took care of him.

The second symbol Sherlock held dear was the band that adorned John’s left ring finger.


	3. Chapter 3

Prepared

The first time John and Sherlock had a huge argument Sherlock didn’t know what to do. Neither of them can remember what the fight was about now, but at the time it seemed important. John had raged at Sherlock, yelling at the top of his lungs, slamming doors, even throwing a few things across the room. After that, John had stopped speaking to him. It took three days for Sherlock to figure out how to placate his lover.

The next time they argued, Sherlock was prepared. All it took was some chocolate, a movie marathon, and lots of make-up sex.

Knowledge

John wasn’t really the jealous type. He never really had cause to be. Sure, there was the occasional case where Sherlock had to flirt with others, because he simply couldn’t solve the case if he didn’t. The detective would put on his most charming smile and give subtle touches and compliment the target.

But John knew better. Because as soon as he had the information he needed, Sherlock would drop the act, leaving behind a disappointed-looking man or woman who obviously hadn’t been able to resist him (who could?).

John had the knowledge that he was Sherlock’s one and only.

Denial

“You’re in denial, John,” Sherlock called out from his position over the table. Enthralled as he was in his experiment, he just would not let the doctor live this one down.

“I’m not, Sherlock, let it go,” John huffed. He was sitting in his armchair, arms crossed petulantly, glaring hatefully at the telly. He kept glancing at something that had seemed to be attached to Sherlock’s side for days now, demanding all of the detective’s detention. But he was not jealous. No, he just couldn’t be.

John refused to believe that he was jealous off a scraggly, small, black puppy.

Wind

Sherlock arrived home to find John staring at a piece of paper. More specifically, this piece of paper happened to be a love note Sherlock had written several days prior, like some love-sick schoolgirl. After he’d written the letter, addressed to John, signed with I love you, he had stashed it in the toaster, hiding it (which hadn’t worked).

Sherlock strode over to John, plucking the letter out of his hand and ripping it up, throwing it out the window to let the wind carry it away.

He turned back around, only to be surprised as John’s lips met his.

Order

He didn’t know he had a particular kink until John pulled rank at Baskerville, demanding entrance. And that kink was the typical ‘can’t resist a man in uniform’ kink. It had surprised him at the time, and completely turned him on.

From then on, Sherlock did everything possible to remind himself of John’s military involvement. He kept a picture of John in uniform in his wallet. He wore John’s dog tags. And most of all there was a sudden, pleasant turn of events in the bedroom.

Let’s just say that Sherlock could never refuse an order from Captain John Watson.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks

For Sherlock Holmes, saying ‘thank you’ was like saying ‘I’m sorry’: It was difficult to say. It was as if he didn’t really know how or when to use them, which was probably true as Sherlock never considered the feelings of others before John. So John doesn’t force him. Sherlock rarely says ‘thank you’ when John saves his life (again). He rarely says ‘I’m sorry’ when an experiment has melted through the table.

What Sherlock does do is curl up across John’s lap as he’s watching crap telly later that day and nuzzles into his neck while John just smiles.

Look

John’s face was exceptionally expressive. With one look he could arouse a variety of emotions in Sherlock, depending on what that look said.

One glare could make Sherlock shut up, a feat no one else could accomplish.

One of his beaming smiles could invoke Sherlock’s own happiness.

One curious tilt of the head could have Sherlock explain everything.

One pout could make Sherlock want to kiss it right off of his lips.

One smirk, combined with veiled eyes could turn Sherlock on, make him lead the doctor by the hand to their bedroom.

And always, always, each look incited love.

Summer

Sherlock dressed very formally even in summer. Sure, sometimes he abandoned the suit jacket, and sometimes he rolled up his sleeves, but he always wore a button-up dress shirt and bespoke trousers and Italian shoes.

Not that John minded.

In fact, John sort of opposite of minded.

He loved it.

Because frankly, Sherlock in a suit was sex for the eyes. He never even broke a sweat, no matter what the temperature was. He always looked cool and composed. Not to mention those trousers complimented his arse very nicely.

The only thing John enjoyed more was taking that suit off.

Transformation

Sherlock soon learned that with John Watson, sometimes appearances could be deceiving. Just when he thought he knew everything about the man, could predict his reactions, the doctor would turn around and surprise him.

Like so.

Sherlock knew that as much as John may not always approve of his experiments, they were always tolerated. Sure, John would complain, but no harm there, words alone couldn’t destroy. So when Sherlock decided he would conduct an experiment on John’s favourite jumper, he thought the man would just passively disagree.

What he did not expect was John’s transformation into a ball of rage.

Tremble

The first time they kissed, Sherlock’s hands had a slight tremble to them. He had never kissed anyone before, and his mind was filled with thoughts of what if I’m terrible and what if he doesn’t want this and oh god, I want this though and then their lips touched and all the noise in his head was washed out by a glorious wave of pleasure. He felt John respond, their lips moving together gently as John’s arms moved to encircle his neck. For what felt like hours, they just kissed, reveling in expressing their complete adoration of each other.


	5. Chapter 5

Sunset

When Sherlock asked John to marry him, it was under a beautiful burning sunset.

It was three years exactly after they first kissed. Sherlock had taken John out to a high-class restaurant. Afterwards they drove a small ways out of the city to a field, where Sherlock spread out a blanket. As John took in his surroundings, Sherlock got down on one knee, pulling a ring out of his coat pocket, and looking up at John wordlessly. He held his breath, the world stilling itself before John pulled him up, shouting “Yes!” as he buried his face in Sherlock’s neck.

Mad

Sometimes John thought he himself must be mad for loving the madman. Mad for putting up with the ridiculous experiments, the myriad of body parts kept in unacceptable places, the violin playing at 3 AM, the days of endless silence, the occasionally infuriating cases of a lack of empathy. Sometimes John wanted to scream. And it seemed as if Sherlock really could read minds. Because every time John got to the point of screaming, Sherlock would go out of his way to be exceptionally affectionate, holding John’s hand, playing with his sandy locks, and suggesting they have a movie marathon.

Thousand

John and Sherlock lay on the blanket underneath a starry sky, staring up at the radiance streaming down from the heavens. All was silent until Sherlock said, “It’s beautiful, is it not?”

John noted his use of the singular. “Sherlock, there are thousands of stars up there. But yes, they are beautiful.”

Sherlock turned to look at John.

“Who said I was talking about them?”

He smirked, leaning in to leave a lingering kiss on the lips of his beloved, admiring the way a pale blush rose to John’s cheeks.

When they parted, John smiled, laughing softly. “You’re beautiful too”

Outside  
When John was mad at Sherlock, it was usually sorted out with a bit of yelling, sulking, and a ban on all affectionate gestures until John felt ready to embrace his lover again. However, there were some moments where John did more than storm about and pout.

On one memorable occasion, John had locked Sherlock outside of 221B. He had already had a bad day, and Sherlock’s cold shoulder that day wasn’t improving it at all. As they reached the flat, John had reached into Sherlock’s pocket, grabbed his key, and run inside, leaving Sherlock looking like a scolded puppy.

Winter

There were certain things that most people enjoyed about winter. Some loved snow, some loved drinking hot chocolate, some loved bundling up in warm blankets and sitting in front of a blazing fireplace. Sherlock and John enjoyed this last one particularly. In the winter, whenever it had been a particularly tiring day, or maybe just a dull one, one of them would light the fireplace while the other grabbed the duvet off of their bed. Inevitably, on a cold winter’s night, the two would end up snuggling together in front of the fireplace until they fell asleep, sharing body heat.


	6. Chapter 6

Diamond

Sherlock was like a diamond. His brilliance sparkled, enthralling everyone who encountered it. It made most people envious, made them lash out in anger, assuming that the hardness of his exterior couldn’t be hurt by anything.

But then there was John.

John treasured Sherlock, admiring his intellect, telling him he was amazing. He saw past Sherlock’s cold facets and saw the times Sherlock was hurt, the times he lost his confidence. And John took care of him, soothed the aches, restored his lustre.

John treasured the detective above all else, for he knew that Sherlock was one of a kind.

Letters

Logically, Sherlock knew that they were only eight letters which formed three words, making one very simple sentence. He thought that saying them should be easy, but no matter how much he planned it, thinking damn it, just say it already,the words always got caught in the back of his throat, tripping on his tongue, and tumbling back down to rest in the cavity of his chest, increasing his heart rate until he almost thought someone must have put a drum inside.

But when he finally did say “I love you” to John, the doctor said it right back.

Promise

It was a very rare day indeed when Sherlock Holmes cried. In fact, John had never seen it until now. But here he was, watching Sherlock sobbing on the sofa, tears rolling down his face. John immediately rushed over, clutching his lover to his chest, whispering soft words of comfort as the detective grasped his shirt, tears staining the material. He mumbled something unintelligible, something about dream andnightmare and dead and please, don’t leave me, don’t leave me. John grasped the gist of what had happened, and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s head.

“I’m not ever leaving, I promise.”

Simple

People loved to ask John why the hell he was with Sherlock.

John thought it was simple.

Sherlock fascinated him. No one could ever compete with the man when it came to his deductions. The life Sherlock lived allowed John to satisfy his need for adrenaline. Then there was the fact that Sherlock let John into his life. Sherlock let John see his mistakes, his ‘failures’. Only John got to see Sherlock’s vulnerability when things didn’t go as planned. Only John could get him to at least try to be socially acceptable occasionally.

And only Sherlock had all John’s love.

Future

As they stood before the small crowd, their family and friends, the people who were their witnesses, it was obvious that they loved each other. They had shared so much together, and knew they would continue to do so. There would be more arguments, more sex, more cases, more passion, more inane experiments, more crime fighting, more striped jumpers, and so much else. They looked forward to every bit of it, knowing that as long as they were together, they would never have to be alone. They looked forward to the future, knowing they would face whatever would happen together.


End file.
